


Resoultions

by Sam_Eller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Brotherly feels, Brothers, Caring Sam, Family, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, One-Shot, Pre-Series, Protective Dean, Protective brothers, Teen Dean, Teen Sam, Teenchester, Teenchesters, sam and dean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Eller/pseuds/Sam_Eller
Summary: A new year means new resolutions, and Dean is in great disagreement with the one that Sam has selected. The brothers argue and aggravate one another, but through it all, they never stop looking out for each other. One-shot. Teenchester. Hurt/Upset/Sam and Protective/Hurt/Dean.





	

Note: I am still alive! :) For those who asked, yes I am still working on my unfinished fics - as I have said before - I will never abandon a fic, so you need not worry about that! I have four different things on the go right now, not sure which will be finished first, but they are all coming. I am writing as fast as I can with the pathetically minimal amount of time I have been allotted as of lately. I will also been returning to tumblr on the weekend, I will be catching up on the show on Saturday, so by Sunday I will be back blogging on a regular basis - for those who wanted to know. Here is a long-ass oneshot for everyone. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Dean released a tired sigh as he pulled into the motel parking lot and put the Impala in park.

He curled forward, and rested his pounding forehead against the steering wheel.

His skull had been pulsing all day, there wasn't a moment of relief to be found.

Dean slid his fingers cautiously through his short brown hair, hissing when they found the bump that was hidden there. The injury was from a couple days ago, a vengeful spirit with a temper had thrown a tantrum and Dean had ended up with a concussion. It hadn't been serious enough to justify a trip to the hospital, but the constant pounding refused to end.

Dean forced his head up and off the steering wheel, because he didn't have time to rest.

Rest didn't pay for food, a motel room, or Sammy's cough medicine.

At the thought of his kid brother, Dean climbed from the car and made his way toward their room door. He stood outside, digging the key from his pocket, but he paused before sliding it into the lock. He took a deep breath, doing his best to relax his body and smooth away the lines of pain he knew would be patterning his face. Sam was upset enough that Dean had ignored his demands this morning and gone off to work his double shift at the diner across town. He had been offered a job at the bar across the road, but they had wanted him to work nights, and though Dean would have very much preferred anything other than mindlessly washing dishes all day, he wasn't about to leave his little brother alone all night. The motel was sketchy as fuck, and the oldest Winchester son wasn't about to leave his kid unprotected in that shithole. He could barely stand leaving the young teen alone for a few hours after school. No, the dishwashing job was better for everyone, especially Sam.

A chest rattling cough sounded from the other side of the rotting wooden door. Dean scowled at the noise and twisted the key in the lock, pushing the door open.

He walked into the pathetically tiny and poorly decorated room, his gaze immediately searching out a shaggy-headed teenager. Sam was hacking into the inside of his elbow, his body curled forward as he held a pair of Dean's jeans in his free hand. The older Winchester took notice of the clothes spread out across the bed furthest from the door, without taking his focus off the thin teen hunched over in front of them.

"Shit, Sammy." Dean cursed, as the younger boy's coughing failed to come to an end. He tossed his keys on the table, as well as the paper bag full of food he had grabbed from work, and made his way to the tiny kitchen.

"Hold on, kiddo." The older teen called out, over the coughing that seemed to echo through the small space.

Dean grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and rushed it over to his little brother, pulling the pants from the kid's grip and replacing it with the beverage. He patted the slender back that was bent forward in front of him, waiting for the attack to subside. He cringed at the chest rattling sound, cursing Sam's immune system, or lack thereof.

Sam had always attracted every illness that was floating around, and once he caught it, it took him two-times longer than any other human-being, to shake it. Dean had commented on that fact once when they had been younger, and his father had mentioned that Sammy had always been like that, and suggested that it likely had something to do with the kid arriving nearly two months before he was supposed to. That had also been John's reasoning as to why the youngest Winchester was so damn small, even for his young age.

Dean wasn't sure as to why Sam always seemed to be sick, but he did know that the lack of sleep and nutrition, as well as their exhausting lifestyle, probably didn't do the kid any favors.

Whatever the reason, Dean was real fucking sick of it.

"Thanks." Sam rasped, before taking a sip of water, his coughing fit finally meeting an end, likely a temporary one.

"You told me before I left for work this morning, that you were feeling better." Dean hadn't intended the comment to sound so accusatory, but Sam didn't appear to take any offense to it.

"I was – I am." Sam stated, placing the bottle on the bedside table and picking up the jeans that Dean had carelessly discarded.

"Yeah, it sounds like it. Why don't you try that bullshit on someone who didn't just listen to you almost hack up a lung?"

Sam rolled his eyes, as he folded the pants and set them neatly onto one of the two piles on the bed.

"And I thought I told you that I would take care of the laundry."

The thirteen-year-old shrugged.

"I had some free time."

Time wasn't the reason Dean didn't want Sam doing the laundry this week. It was because the laundromat down the street looked even more questionable than the motel they were staying in, and he didn't want his brother hanging around there alone, and unprotected. Besides, it was Dean's week to do that chore. But he didn't bother pointing any of that out, because he knew that Sam would simply declare that he could take care of himself and would accuse the older teen of being a mother-hen.

And sure, maybe Dean was a little too protective, but it was his goddamn right. Sam was his to protect, whether the kid liked it or not.

"It's just laundry, Dean. You can stop glaring at it."

"I'm not glaring at anything. I'm just wondering why you are so OCD."

Sam's face scrunched up at the comment, indicating his confusion.

"I mean, seriously dude, you training for a job in retail or something?" Dean joked, gesturing to the smoothly folded, pristinely stacked, and perfectly organized clothing.

"Shut-up." Sam sighed, swatting his brother's stomach as he picked a shirt out of the unfolded wad of clothes sitting in the center of the bed.

Dean chuckled, ruffling the shaggy hair as he walked away, shedding his coat and tossing it onto his bed.

"Come on dude, let's eat." He prompted, dropping down into one of the two chairs placed around the small square table.

"Just a sec."

The older boy shook his head, forever frustrated with the young teen's complete lack of interest in food.

"Let's go, Martha Stewart, the laundry can wait."

"You can start. I'll be done in a minute."

Dean eyed the hill of unfolded clothing, and shook his head.

"Sam. Now." He ordered, utilizing his stern tone.

Sam frowned, gazing over at Dean, analyzing him, as though he were judging just how serious the seventeen-year-old was.

Dean stared down the hazel eyes. Sam was skinny enough, and Dean refused to play along with the kid's efforts to get out of eating food, or even delay it. Sam must have arrived at a similar conclusion, because he released an exasperated sigh, before discarding the shirt in his hands, grabbing the plastic bottle, and trudging over to the table.

The younger boy sat down heavily, across from Dean, placing his water on the tabletop and staring at his brother.

Dean snickered at the bitch-face he was receiving.

"Oh yeah, I'm the worst. I'm such a wretched brother. How dare I make you eat." Dean chaffed, reaching for the take-out bag sitting between them.

"I didn't say that."

Sam's tone caught the older teen's attention, and caused him to pause, with his hand in the bag. He didn't sound defensive or moody, like Dean would have expected, he almost sounded upset.

"I know." Dean replied, his voice gentle.

"I'd never think that." Sam added, his hazel eyes wide and sincere.

Dean twitched a smile as he nodded.

"I know, buddy."

Sam nodded, apparently satisfied that his brother understood.

Dean inwardly shrugged, unsure of his brother's peculiar behaviour, but chalking it up to the emotions of an ill, hormonal, teenager.

"Chicken sandwich for you, with a side of coleslaw; and a burger with fries for me." Dean recited, as he emptied the bag.

Sam unwrapped his food, glancing across the table at his brother's, before moving to the fridge and grabbing another water-bottle; which he placed in front of Dean, before sitting back down and returning his attention to his meal.

"I want you to eat all of that. Every bite." Dean instructed, trying not to sound too demanding – trying not to sound like John.

Sam frowned, staring down at the large sandwich in front of him.

"I mean it, dude. You're skinny enough as it is, I don't need people thinking that I don't feed you." Dean jabbed playfully, hoping it would relax his brother's tendency to rebel against orders.

"I'm not that skinny." The younger boy sulked, as he dutifully picked up the meal and took a bite.

The older teen snickered at his little brother's dramatics, before digging into his own meal. He found his eyelids growing heavy as he ate. The past couple weeks they had been hunting almost every night, and Dean had been working just about everyday. After he got hurt the night before last, John had gone off on his own to hunt a couple states over, and Dean had been okay with that. He had needed a break, not just because his skull had turned into a drum set, but because he was rundown. He needed time to rest and focus on earning some cash. Sam had needed the rest as well, between the endless stream of hunts, high school, and his unshakeable illness, the kid was completely worn out.

"Did work go okay?" Sam asked, around a mouthful of sandwich.

Dean shrugged.

"Boring. I got to take a break from dishes to mop today…so that was fun." There wasn't a whole lot to report when one spent their day elbow-deep in sudsy water.

Sam simply nodded, but Dean could tell he seemed disappointed by the answer, or possibly even upset. If Dean knew Sam at all, the kid was probably even feeling guilty. Moron.

"Hey." Dean prompted, tossing a fry at his brother, smiling at the scowl he received when it bounced off the younger boy's nose.

"Sammy, it was fine." He assured.

Sam nodded, flicking back the fry that had landed in front of him.

"How was school? Did you get that report done?" Dean asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

"Not yet." Sam responded softly.

"I thought it had to be done for when you went back to school today." Dean pondered allowed, recalling Sam having mentioned that the paper was due after the holiday break.

It was Sam's turn to shrug, which he did, while mumbling something so quietly that his brother couldn't hear it.

"What?" Dean asked, as he finished off his burger.

"It was due yesterday."

The older teen frowned, mid-chew.

"What do you mean? You didn't have school yesterday."

"There was class, I just didn't go."

"What do you mean, you didn't go?"

"I didn't go, as in, I was absent."'

"You skipped school?"

Sam shrugged again, which did nothing to soothe his brother.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

That question enlisted a response from the younger boy. He looked up sharply, hurt flashing in his hazel eyes, before he cocked his head in confusion.

"Do you even remember yesterday?"

Dean frowned. Honestly, he didn't. The time between their arrival home from the hunt, and their father's departure was all a blur. He knew that he had thrown up several times during the ungodly hours of the morning. He remembered all the times a skinny little kid would nudge him awake and bombard him with random inquiries. He recalled there being lots of sleep involved, as well as Gatorade and grilled cheese being pushed into his hands. Beyond those vague flashes of memory, Dean couldn't peg _exactly_ what had gone on during the fourth day of the new year.

"You were pretty out of it, I guess, I just didn't know you were _that_ out of it. You talked to me a little bit, don't you remember any of that?"

Dean squinted, ignoring the ache in his head, as he tried to recall more about yesterday.

He remembered Sam encouraging him to open his eyes, helping him stumble over to the bathroom a couple times. He could see a young dimpled face, lined with worry, leaning down and speaking slowly to him. He could feel the cool cloth that nimble fingers had spread across his forehead, and hear the gentle shuffles of the slim frame moving about the small room. Dean could recall that every time he opened his eyes, a shaggy headed boy had been standing or sitting right next to him, offering him something he had yet to ask for; be it food, water, meds, or comfort.

"Yeah, I remember." Dean stated softly.

Sam nodded, looking relieved.

"You didn't have to skip school." The older teen claimed.

"Yeah, I should have just left you here to vomit all over yourself." Sam shot back, with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, you could have given me a bucket."

The teen glared up at his brother, not appreciating the implication that he would be so cruel, but he relaxed when he saw the playful smirk on the freckled face.

"Whatever." He dismissed with a huff, before looking down and picking at his sandwich.

Dean smiled fondly at the skinny runt seated across the table. Sometimes he was so busy taking care of Sam, he forgot that the kid took care of him just as much.

If Dean believed in God, he would thank him for Sam, one hundred times over.

"So, when are you going to hand in your paper?" Dean asked, casually, being sure not to come off as overly parental.

"The teacher gave me until tomorrow."

"Have you started yet?"

Sam shook his head. Dean internally smacked himself; of course the kid hadn't started yet, he had been too busy babysitting his concussed big brother.

"What are you supposed to write about?"

"My New Year's resolution."

"Which is?"

Sam bit his lip, which either meant he didn't have one, or he was embarrassed about it. Dean didn't push it. That was the difference between him and John, he knew when to push the youngest Winchester, and when to leave him be.

"I got one for you, eating more red meat." Dean suggested, only half-joking.

Sam squinted at the suggestion.

"That sounds more like your resolution." He replied.

"It is. Getting my too-skinny kid brother to eat more protein, is definitely my New Year's resolution." The seventeen-year-old announced.

The other teen frowned.

"I figured yours would have something to do with girls."

"Well, who said I only have one." Dean quipped, with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

"Gross." The younger teen whined.

"I'm serious though, Sam."

The shorter boy flicked his hair out of his eyes, his questioning gaze landing on his brother.

"You need to eat more, dude. The rabbit food is fine – seriously - if that's what you like, that's fine. I'm good with that."

Sam appeared doubtful, but didn't attempt to object. He was waiting patiently for Dean to finish, something he had always done for his older brother. Dean hadn't failed to notice that Sam granted him a grace that he rarely presented to their father. Perhaps, that was because Dean had earned it, by _always_ listening to his little brother and hearing the kid out, something John often failed to do; or maybe it was simply Sam's own decision. Whatever the reason, Dean was damn thankful for it.

"But you can't live off fruit and vegetables alone. You need more than that. I'm not saying you've got to start chowing down on burgers, but have some chicken on your salad, or get some sort of meat wrap. Or at least start finishing your dinner." Dean insisted, gesturing to the partially eaten sandwich.

Sam glanced down at the meal.

"I know we didn't always have enough food, and maybe that's part of the reason you never seem to take any interest in the stuff, but I've changed that. I make sure that we always have enough to eat, and not just that canned shit we grew up on, but real food. I just need you to actually eat it. Alright? You're already too fucking thin, if you drop any more weight, I'll…"

Usually, Dean would throw in some lame threat that would make Sam smile or roll his eyes, but he couldn't make a joke about his little brother's health. It was not a matter that he took lightly.

"Just, please don't. Okay?"

He hadn't meant to address Sam's eating habits, not so bluntly, but the opportunity had presented itself and Dean took hold of it.

Sam did not brush off the older teen's concern, or roll his eyes at the intense mothering, like Dean thought he would, he simply nodded his head.

"Okay, Dean. Don't worry. I'll do better." He stated, his expression honest.

The older brother was confused by the genuine response he received. He had been expecting some sarcasm or a bitch face, perhaps even an exasperated nod, if Sam was feeling generous. He hadn't expected the kid to take it all so seriously, or respond so sincerely.

Dean didn't know how to react to that, so he did the same thing he always did when he felt uncomfortable, made a joke.

"Now about my other New Year's resolutions. You remember how I told you about the thing that girl Carrie and I did—

"Oh gawd, stop. I don't want to know." Sam moaned.

Dean snickered at his little brother's squeamish behaviour, but obeyed his request.

When Sam finished his meal, Dean couldn't wipe the smile off his face. It was probably the first time in months, maybe years, that the kid had eaten every bite of the food Dean placed in front of him. The younger boy stood and gathered the garbage, Dean hadn't even realized that he had also finished eating, until Sam swiped the empty takeout container from in front of him. The teen nudged the water bottle that he had placed in front of the older Winchester at the beginning of their meal, moving it closer to his brother. He stared expectantly until Dean uncapped the beverage and began to drink.

He hadn't known he was thirsty, until the water touched his tongue, then Dean drained nearly three-quarters of the bottle. By the time he set aside the remaining liquid, Sam had already moved back across the room and was folding laundry. Or at least he was trying to, the coughing fit that had overcome him was not helping matters.

Dean cringed at the aggressive hacking, and the havoc it was likely wreaking on his brother's already sore throat.

"When did you last take something for that?" He questioned, once the kid had stopped trying to expel his insides.

"When's the last time you took something for your head?" Sam shot back.

"This morning, before I left for work, and after I told you to take those meds the doc prescribed for your cough. Which you did do, right?"

The younger boy's evasive shrug, had Dean scowling.

"Sam." He warned.

"I ran out." The teen admitted quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the shirt he was folding.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean barked, standing from the table, ignoring the drums resounding through his head.

When he wasn't able to hear his brother's mumbled reply, Dean made his way towards the beds and snagged the article of clothing from the thin fingers.

"Sam." It wasn't a demand or a warning, simply a soft request.

"I did." Sam admitted with a sigh, his hazel gaze moving up to meet the taller boy's green eyes.

Dean squinted, trying to remember.

"The day before yesterday, I told you. You said we would refill my prescription after the hunt, but then…" Sam faded off, clearly not wanting to recount the events of that night; which involved lugging a barely-conscious older brother into the motel room.

"Shit." Dean cursed, now recalling the conversation, and realizing that his kid brother had gone two days without his medication. No wonder the goddamn cough was getting worse instead of better.

"I told Dad, but he didn't have time before he left."

The older teen snorted at that. John wasn't on a strict schedule. He could have taken fifteen fucking minutes, before taking off for a few weeks, to make a run to the bloody pharmacy.

"I went to the drugstore during lunchbreak at school today, but they said I wasn't old enough to get the prescription filled."

Dean shook his head. The kid was thirteen-fucking-years-old, of course he wasn't old enough to get the damn drugs he needed. The meds Dean should have already gotten for him, days ago.

"I'll go grab them now before I head over to the library, Dad needed me to collect some info." Dean declared, moving to grab his jacket, before Sam's words stopped him.

"You can't."

"Can't what?"

"Um, get the prescription filled. The pharmacy closed at six." Sam stated, speaking gently, as if he wasn't sure how his brother was going to react to the information.

"Six?"

Dean hadn't even gotten off work until seven.

"Yeah, this town only has one. I saw the hours when I went there this afternoon."

"Then I'll go to the next town." Dean insisted, he would do whatever it took to get Sam's meds, he'd tell John to do his own homework. Dean had priorities, and while his father's orders were high up on the list, Sam would always surpass them. The kid had been number one since the day Dean first held him in his arms, and that wouldn't be changing anytime soon, or ever.

"You'd probably have to go to the city to find something open late enough, that's hours away. Don't worry about it tonight, we can go tomorrow morning."

The older teen practically growled at the suggestion.

"Just relax, Dean. there's nothing you can do right now. Let it go."

"We are going first thing tomorrow. Before school." Dean declared.

"But you'll be late for work."

"Work can wait."

' _You're more important'_ – Dean thought, but didn't say, not wanting to sound like such a girl. However, based on his little brother's expression, Sam had heard the unspoken words loud and clear.

He looked equal parts sappy and guilty.

Who knew you could love a dorky, skinny, shaggy-headed, midget so much?

Some times it even amazed Dean how much he loved the kid. Not because Sam didn't deserve that love a hundred times over, but because Dean didn't know he was capable of it. He didn't often feel like there was enough good left in him that he could have anything good or feel anything good, but then he'd look at Sam. Sam was more good and more love than Dean could ever deserve. Sam reminded him that he still had something decent inside of him, because if he could love someone as much as he loved his little brother, and be loved and cared for just as much in return, then he couldn't be all bad.

Sammy was the best part of Dean's world. Hell, he was Dean's world.

"Here."

Dean snapped back into focus just in time to catch the bottle sailing towards him.

He scowled at the pain pills, not because his pulsing skull wasn't begging for a godamn moment of respite, but because it wasn't fair that he would experience relief when Sam couldn't.

"Don't be an idiot and take the freakin' pills. I can tell that your head is killing you." Sam announced, his tone serious.

"Bossy little bitch." Dean jokingly grumbled, as he dry swallowed his meds, waving off the water bottle being held out for him.

The younger teen shook his head in exasperation, the appearance of his dimples betraying the fondness underneath, as he placed the beverage back down with a roll of his eyes.

"I'll grab you some cough-drops on the way home from the library, I know that you ran out a few days back. I'll get those cherry ones you love. And juice. I'll grab juice too. Orange juice." Dean rambled, slipping into his jacket.

"Dean—

"I know you like apple, dude, but orange will be better for you. It's got more vitamins and shit." He continued, patting his pocket to be sure his wallet was still on him.

"It's not that. You don't need to go to the library."

The older Winchester looked up at the words, turning from where he had been facing the door, to stare at his little brother.

"I do. I told you Dad—

"I already did it." Sam interjected.

Dean must have looked as confused as he felt, because the younger teen promptly elaborated.

"The research that Dad wanted. I did it already. I went to the library after school and then called him with the information I found, when I got back here."

"How did you know—

"I was right beside you when Dad called, I could hear him through the phone. I'm not deaf."

"But he asked me to do the research." Dean stated.

"Yeah, I know, but I knew he wouldn't care who did it. Just as long as it got done. And I was right, he didn't say anything when I called to give him the information he wanted."

"You should have left that for me, buddy. You've got enough going on, and you haven't even started that assignment yet."

"It wasn't a big deal." Sam shrugged. "Besides, you worked for almost twelve hours today, and I knew that your head would be killing you." He continued.

"My head is fine, dude. You don't have to worry about me."

Apparently that answer was not the one that Sam had wanted to hear, because his lips turned down and his face pinched in aggravation as he shook his head in disapproval.

"Alright, well I'll just go grab your stuff then."

"I don't need anything."

"Yeah, Sam, you do. You sound like you've been sucking on sandpaper"

Sam scrunched his face up at the description, but didn't bother to challenge it. Dean nodded his head, outwardly confirming his inward assumptions, the kid was feeling like shit.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." He announced, snagging the keys off the table and heading for the door, stalling only long enough to notice Sam's reluctant nod.

The supply run had taken the teen longer than it should have. He had been forced to search three different stores before finding cherry-flavoured lozenges. He loaded up on orange juice and purchased a humidifier. Dean was tempted to search out a pharmacy to refill the prescription and get Sam the meds that he needed, but he knew the kid would kill him for taking off after they agreed on going in the morning; he also hated the idea of leaving the sick young teenager alone and vulnerable in that seedy motel for one more bloody moment.

Dean climbed from the Impala with couple of plastic bags in his hands, thankful that his head no longer felt like it was being hammered to pieces. The young hunter tensed at the shouting he could hear coming from a couple doors down, and grimaced at drug deal he could see going on in the parking lot. Just as he reached the motel room door, the two dealers started fighting. He stepped inside quickly, hoping that the argument didn't result in a weapon's discharge, the motel's walls were not thick enough to drown out raised voices, they didn't stand a chance against a bullet of any caliber – which was one of the many reasons why Sam's bed was always the one furthest from the door and the dangers of world outside.

Dean walked in the room, not missing his little brother's flinch when he entered. The older Winchester made no comment of it, heaven knows how long the kid had been forced to sit there alone and listen to the volatile chaos surrounding him.

"What's going on out there?" The thirteen-year-old inquired, his tone nonchalant, even as his hazel eyes failed to mask his apprehension.

"Nothing we need to worry about." Dean dismissed, hoping his words were true. "How's your assignment coming?" He distracted, nodding at the paper Sam was hunched over.

The slender shoulders shrugged as the younger boy frowned down at his homework.

"You need more ideas?" Dean questioned, shedding his jacket and rifling through the supplies he had placed on the table.

"No. I know what my resolution is, I just…I don't know how to write about."

Dean was surprised by the response. Sam always knew what he wanted to say and how to say it. Even as a little kid he had been more articulate that children twice his age. He had never struggled with getting his point across or making his argument. Dean's little brother was damn near eloquent with words, and the older Winchester had read enough of Sam's report cards to know that he wasn't the only one who thought so. Therefor, it was odd that the younger boy was struggling with any sort of written assignment.

"Let me know if I can help." Dean responded honestly, as he placed the cough-drops in front of the shaggy-headed teen.

"Thanks." Sam rasped, immediately popping one of the lozenges into his mouth.

Dean paid no mind to the unnecessary appreciation, as he piled the orange juice into the fridge.

The night went by peacefully, at least that was the case inside the motel room, the hollering and commotion caused by the other tenants never ceased.

Dean was stretched out across the bed, and hadn't noticed that he had fallen asleep until the sound of a gunshot shocked him awake.

"Sam!" He called out, before he even had the time to take in his surroundings.

"It's alright, Dean. It's just some guys playing target practice with bottles in the parking lot. Everything's fine. Go back to sleep." Sam assured quietly from his seat at the small kitchen table.

Dean rubbed at his eyes, hearing another shot and a resounding smash, the noise confirming Sam's explanation. He glanced over at the clock, realizing that he had been sleeping for at least a couple hours, it was after eleven. The teen glanced around the room, the moon shone through the wispy motel curtains, and the cop show playing on the television sent an unnatural glow across the room. The kitchen light was on, but it was fading and provided just enough illumination for Sam to see the page in front of him. The kid was still bent over his homework.

"It's time to call it a night, dude." Dean said, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, not failing to notice that his shoes had been removed and placed neatly to the side of the room beside his perfectly folded clean clothes; the blanket had also been spread out over him. Dean felt a fond smile pull at his lips as he stood from the mattress. Damn, did he love his kid.

"I'm not finished." Sam whined, tossing the bangs from his eyes as he looked up at the taller boy.

"You've been at it for hours, kiddo."

"I know, but I'm not done. It's not right. It's not enough." The teen mumbled, staring down at his work in frustration.

"You've done enough. You need to get to bed. You are sick and you need to get some sleep, or you're never going to get any better."

"But I have to finish."

"Not tonight. I'll write you a note, whatever you need, but for right now you need to get your scrawny ass into bed."

Sam scowled, but dropped his pencil with a resigned sigh. The kid could argue with the best of them, and was stubborn as hell, but he knew that when it came to his health, Dean could not be beat. Thin fingers played with the corner of the paper, before flipping it upside down. After efficiently concealing his work, Sam trudged off to the bathroom.

Dean shook his head, not understanding how he could have ended up with such a dorky little brother. When he heard the echo of harsh coughs sounding from the other side of the bathroom door, he went to grab the humidifier and take it out of the box.

"What's that?" Sam questioned around the toothbrush in his mouth, as Dean entered the bathroom and moved over to the tub.

"A humidifier. It'll help you breathe easier, and maybe keep you from trying to cough up a lung in the middle of the night." Dean explained.

Sam watched with curiosity as the older teen filled the object with water.

"When did we get that?" He asked, between rinses.

"I just picked it up. I think we used to have one years ago, but Dad left it behind because it was too big. This one's a little smaller. Besides, now that he has his own truck this will fit in the Impala easily." Dean responded, as he walked in to the other room and searched for somewhere to plug in the new device.

Once it was plugged in, the fan started up and Dean positioned the humidifier as close to Sam's bed as he could get it.

"You didn't have to."

The quiet comment came a few minutes later from behind him. Dean turned to see Sam in his sleep clothes, staring at the object whirring softly next to his bed.

"You didn't have to do the laundry or the research for Dad." The older Winchester responded truthfully.

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't. It was my turn to do laundry and Dad asked _me_ to find the info he needed, not you."

"I know, but I owed you."

"You owed me?" Dean inquired incredulously.

Sam nodded. "You took the hit for me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The seventeen-year-old barked.

Sam's eyes widened, it was apparent he hadn't been expecting such a strong reaction.

"The spirit was aiming for me, you stepped in front of me and took the hit instead. You didn't have to do that."

Dean was thrown by the smaller boy's reply. Confusion hit first, and then came the hurt, quickly followed by anger.

"So what, we're keeping tabs now?"

He wasn't sure if it was the fury in his tone of the question itself, but one of the two caused an expression of shock to befall his brother's face.

"No, no that's not what I mean." He defended.

"Really? Because that's sure what it sounds like."

"I just mean that you got hurt saving me, so I..." the younger boy faded off, seemingly unable to find the words he wanted.

"You what? You owe me now? Is that how we are going to start doing things? Every time you save my ass, I'm going to have to start repaying you? With what? You want me to shine your shoes? Or maybe cold-hard-cash would be easiest?"

Sam's face continued to pale with each question in his older brother's rant.

"That's not what I meant!" He shouted, tears of frustration glistening in his eyes as he struggled under the intense green gaze focussing down on him. "It's not like I ever save you anyways." The smaller teen added, dejectedly.

"What the hell do you mean? How many times have you shot the fugly-of-the-week right before it could get to me when I was playing the bait? And how many times have you burned the bones right before a pissed off spirit took me out? How many fucking times has your good aim or quick thinking gotten me out of trouble? You save my ass all the godamn time, Sam, and if I have to start repaying you for that we better hire an accountant or something, because I don't think I'll be able to keep up."

"That's not what I meant! It's just that you didn't have to take the hit for me." Sam spoke, his voice wavering as his eyes shifted between his brother and the floor.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Sam seriously insinuating that Dean didn't have to protect him from the monsters? That he didn't have to shield his little brother with his body to keep the kid safe? Was he really implying that it wasn't Dean's duty, job, or fucking purpose in life, to keep Sam safe?

Didn't he know that protecting Sam, came as natural to Dean as breathing?

He had thought the younger teen had always understood that.

Dean's head was spinning and he was at a loss for words.

"I need some air." He ground out, turning away from the smaller boy, and snatching up his jacket.

"Please, don't go out." The raspy voice requested softly.

"I'm just going outside." The teen responded flatly, as he headed toward the door, because Sam should know that Dean would never just take off on him, no matter how pissed he was.

Then again, apparently, there were several things the youngest Winchester didn't seem to understand about their relationship as brothers.

"I know, but don't go out there. Please."

Dean stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He wanted to go out, wanted to take a breath and collect himself, figure out where the hell he had gone wrong that Sam viewed the two of them more as business partners than brothers; but Dean had never once been able to ignore Sammy's soft pleading tone.

He pulled his hand back, glancing over his shoulder to the slender frame behind him, nervously shuffling from foot to foot.

"We don't have to talk. I'll be quiet. I swear. Just, please stay inside." Sam's request ended with a flinch as target practice continued in the parking lot.

It was then that Dean understood his brother's desperation. The kid was trying to protect him from the dangers lurking on the other side of the door, the same way Dean did when he stuck Sam in the furthest bed.

Maybe Sam wasn't as confused about their brotherhood as Dean had originally thought.

The older teen dropped his shoulders, tossed his coat over the kitchen chair, and fully turned away from the door.

He glanced at his little brother long enough to see the thin frame relax, though he continued to gnaw on his bottom lip.

True to his word, Sam didn't make another sound, except for the uncontrollable hacking that overcame him every few minutes. Dean sat down in his bed, turning the television up so it could drown out the shots and shouts thundering from outside, while he pretended to watch whatever dumb show was on.

Sam silently turned off the bathroom and kitchen lights, before climbing into bed, without even a glance in Dean's direction. Regardless of his irritation with the other teen in the room, Dean turned down the sound on the TV, as to not disturb his brother.

The eldest son simply sat against the headboard in silent aggravation. Trying to figure out where and when he had gone wrong, and how his kid brother had ended up with such warped ideas as to how family worked. Dean had never given Sam any idea that he owed him, nor had he ever done anything to repay the younger boy anytime he had saved his older brother's backside. That had never been the way things worked, so why the hell would Sam think that was how it should be now? Since when was Dean not allowed to fucking take care of the kid without needing an invitation or a reason to do so?

Even amidst his inner tirade, Dean had an ear out for Sam, and could tell the moment the kid drifted off to sleep. He quirked a smile without meaning to, glad that the humidifier seemed to be doing its job, because the sick teen hadn't fallen to sleep that quickly in weeks. Dean should have thought to purchase the breathing aid sooner.

Dean sat in bed for an hour, his mind wandering in circles, as he kept one ear out for his little brother - monitoring the kid's breathing - and another half-listening to the screaming argument that was taking place a couple doors down. His skull began to pulse again, and he glanced at the clock, releasing a long sigh upon realizing he wouldn't be able to take another dose of meds for three more hours.

A hoarse cough had Dean turning to look to his left. The short hack didn't seem to rouse the kid too much, Sam simply turned around, towards his brother, and settled. A set of vibrant green eyes scanned the young face – as much as could be seen beneath the long brown hair – and only moved away after being sure there were no signs of distress. The observant gaze drifted over to Sam's bedside table, finding it to be void of a water bottle. Dean shook his head, how could he not take care of the kid, when the little brat was so bad at looking after himself?

It didn't matter how effective that humidifier was, Sam was bound to have a coughing attack at some point, after which he would need water; and heaven knows he wouldn't have the energy to climb out of bed to go get it, which would make the second attack imminent and more painful.

"Pain in my ass." Dean grumbled, dragging himself out of bed and shuffling toward the table where he had last seen the beverage.

The bottle was practically full, save for the few sips Sam had taken after his last hacking fits.

"C'mon Sammy." The older teen sighed. Sick kids needed fluids, Dean had told his brother that a thousand times and the moron still wasn't getting it.

He snatched the bottle off the table, causing Sam's homework to slide off the surface onto the floor.

"Only one page, dude?" Dean mumbled. The intelligent little midget had spent hours on the report, and only had a single sheet of paper to show for it, that was very unlike him. The younger boy must have been truly stumped by the assignment, or perhaps his struggle was more proof as to how ill and exhausted Sam truly was.

Dean flipped the page over, glancing to see how much writing was on it. It wasn't the number of words on the page that caught his eye, but the first sentence, which seized his attention.

_My New Year's resolution is to be better for my brother._

Dean's breath vanished from his lungs. He glanced over at the sleeping kid in the bed, and back down at the page in his hand, moving closer to the window so that the glow from outside would shed more light on the page. He knew Sam probably didn't want him to read the paper, but he couldn't put it down now. He had to figure out what the hell his little brother was thinking. Why did he think he would need to be better? And for Dean?

The taller boy glanced at the slender frame curled up beneath the covers, he inwardly apologized to his brother for what he was about to do, but Sam should know by now that their lifestyle didn't allow for much privacy. Dean quirked a smile at the over-used motto, and the eyeroll the younger teen always supplied in response to it, before focussing back on the essay in his hand.

_My New Year's resolution is to be better for my brother. In order to comprehend my resolution, it is necessary to understand my big brother. My brother's name is Dean, he is older than me, and has been looking out for me, my entire life. Since before I can remember, my big brother has_ _taken care of me._ _Anytime I have been sick, he has done whatever it took to make me well again. He made sure I had the medicine that I needed, he has stayed up all night with me, always by my bedside whenever I needed him. Even on occasions where he has been sick himself, he still did everything for me. He always put my health before his own, he still does._

_Dean has always protected me, even when it meant putting himself in more danger, or getting hurt. There has never been a day where I didn't feel secure, because he has always been just a call away. My brother has protected me from everything and every body, no matter what the cost to himself. Every single day he has placed my safety above his own, including today._

_He has always taken care of my needs. No matter how tight money was, he has done whatever it took to get me what I needed. Whenever I needed new clothes or something for school, or anything at all, my brother found a way to provide for me. Even when providing for me meant that he had to go without. Dean has always prioritized my needs over his own, even now._

_My big brother has sacrificed so much for me, and he continues to sacrifice for me every day. He dropped out of school for me, (he claims he did it to help our father with the family business, but I know different). He gave up his childhood and the freedom of his teenage years, for me. He works at jobs he hates for me, to get money for the things that I need. He risks his life for me, to protect me. He does_ _**everything** _ _for me._

_I want to be better, so that Dean doesn't have to keep sacrificing for me. If I was better at taking care of myself and following orders, I wouldn't get sick so much; and then he wouldn't have to take care of me. If I worked harder at getting stronger and tougher, my big brother wouldn't have to get hurt protecting me. If I got better at the family business, I could help Dean more and he would have to help me less. If I got a job, then Dean wouldn't have to work so much and be so tired making money to buy the things I need. If I was better, my big brother wouldn't have to give up so much._

_I had the same resolution last year, and the one before, but I am older this year, so maybe it will work this time. I have tried to start implementing it already, applying for jobs to help out, but nobody wants to hire someone my age, so I am going to try doing more stuff at home instead. I always do what Dean asks me, but I want to do more than that. I want to do more so that he can do less, because he does too much, he gives up too much._

_My New Year's resolution, is to be better for my big brother, so that he doesn't have to sacrifice so much. Dean has already given me every thing. How could I ever demand any more from him?_

Dean hadn't realized he was crying, until he saw a teardrop fall on the paper in his hand.

He had never felt so loved and so baffled in his life.

How the fuck could Sam think for one godamn second, that he wasn't good enough? That he didn't do enough? Especially for Dean. The kid had always done everything and anything Dean asked him to, he had always given everything he could to his older brother. The teen hated how much the young boy had to sacrifice all the time. He was always watching out for Dean's back, and not just on hunts. Sam was constantly worrying about his big brother, doing whatever he could to look after him. He never asked for more than Dean could give him, and anything he received he shared with the older teen. Even when money was tight and they were both starving, Sam always made sure that they both ate equal amounts of whatever food could be scrounged up. All children are supposed to be selfish, especially one that was going hungry, but Dean's kid had never been selfish for one single fucking day in his life.

Sam listened to Dean, even hearing the words that the older boy never said. He comforted Dean, even when he didn't know what was wrong. He forgave Dean every time the teen failed at his job and let the kid get hurt or didn't look out for him properly, ever damn time he had let Sam down, the kid had forgiven him.

Sam kept Dean sane. He gave him a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a reason to fight, a reason to live. Sam gave Dean everything he had and everything was. How could that not be enough?

The sudden burst of coughing distracted the teenager from his thoughts.

Dean set the paper back down on the table, and made his way toward the bed with the water bottle in his hand. Sam was hacking his lungs out, the harsh coughs sounding painful. Dean winced, imagining the agony the attack was causing on Sam's raw throat.

Sam was struggling to push himself into a more upright position, but the aggressive coughing was overcoming his lanky limbs.

"Take it easy, kiddo." Dean soothed, discarding the beverage, as he sat on the side of the bed and pulled the teen up. Sam immediately leaned forward, his forehead landing on Dean' s shoulder as he struggled to take in a deep breath.

The fit didn't let up, as the younger boy proceeded to hack for all he was worth. The hand and not covering his mouth reached forward and latched on to the front of Dean's shirt, as well as the amulet resting underneath, a sure sign of panic.

"Take it easy, buddy. You're alright, just try to breathe." The older brother encouraged, one hand patting the trembling back as the other rubbed at the heaving chest, as though it could force the lungs inside it to cooperate.

It took way too fucking long, and by the end of it Sam was gulping in air, but eventually the coughing subsided.

"Here, drink some of this." Dean prompted, leaning his too-small-for-his-age little brother back against the headboard, and placing the uncapped plastic bottle into his hand.

Sam shakily brought the water to his mouth, and obediently swallowed a few gulps, before letting his arm drop back down to his side and nearly spilling the beverage. Dean saved the water from pouring out onto the bed, and put the lid back on before placing the bottle on the nightstand.

The big hazel eyes were watering from exertion, as Sam slumped against the wood at his back. It was clear the attack had drained him, his eyelids already falling closed.

Dean twitched an amused smile, as he gently maneuvered the smaller boy back down onto his pillows, it was only then that he noticed the narrow fingers still gripping his shirt. He carefully detached the clingy appendages, laying Sam's hand gently on his chest.

"Thanks De." His little brother rasped, before fading off to sleep.

"Anytime, Sammy." Dean responded fondly, instinctively reaching out and combing the brown bangs from the pale face.

"What am I going to do with you, little man, huh? Some days I wish I could climb inside that funny little head of yours and figure out how you come up with this stuff." The teen whispered into the night, as he sat sliding his fingers through the soft hair.

"Don't you know that you're worth it? Haven't I taught you that much?" He continued quietly, sending a sad smile to his little brother's peaceful expression, before leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on Sam's forehead.

When Dean eventually climbed into bed that night, he was determined to set the younger boy straight in the morning.

"Drink up, Sam. We aren't leaving until you finish that orange juice." Dean instructed the next morning, towel drying his hair as he exited the bathroom.

Sam snapped his head up from his paper and glanced at Dean, the older teen could tell that he kid was surprised by his voice, that hadn't spoken yet that morning. Sam had thankfully only woken up the one time that night, not having another coughing fit or stirring at the gunshots that continued to thunder nearly all night long.

"We're still going?" Sam asked, his voice sounding a tad less gruff than it had yesterday.

"Yeah. I already called work and said I'd be late." Dean responded, trying not to be upset by the fact that his kid brother thought, because of one stupid argument, that the older teen wouldn't take him to get his prescription refilled. What kind of asshole did Sam think his brother was? However, after reading the younger boy's paper, Dean was realizing that it was Sam's lack of self-worth that seemed to be the real issue. Dean was going to fix that.

"We don't have to—

"We do actually. We have to get your meds. That is something that we have to do. So just drop it and drink your damn juice." He was determined to fix it, that didn't mean he would do it gracefully.

Sam stopped biting down on his lip long enough to follow instruction, and then got up from the table and slid into his coat and shoes, before grabbing his backpack.

"Don't for get your homework." Dean said, grabbing the paper.

Sam eyes widened as he jumped forward and snagged the essay from his brother's grasp. It was clear he didn't want the older teen to read it.

"Touchy-touchy." Dean teased, as he tugged the hood of Sam's jacket up over his head. "Zip-up your coat, dude, it's cold out."

Sam slid his homework into his bag, before doing up his jacket.

"There's toast for you on the counter." He stated faintly.

Dean stood up from putting his boots on, and looked toward the kitchen to see toast sitting on a napkin.

"Thanks." He said, grabbing the food.

"Your meds are there too." Sam practically whispered.

Dean frowned at the pill sitting on the counter-top. It felt wrong taking medication when Sam couldn't, but the pounding in his head didn't seem to give a shit about the ethical dilemma.

Dean reluctantly swallowed the prescription pain pill, as he ushered his brother out the door, keeping a protective grip on the boney shoulder as his gaze swept the parking lot, being sure it was safe. It would seem, that chaos only befell the motel once the sun began to set. Nevertheless, Dean did not release his hold on the shorter teen shuffling in front of him, until they reached the Impala.

"Does this mean that I owe you now?" Dean joked as he took a bite of the peanut-butter-covered toast.

"No."

The choked whisper was not the response the teen had been expecting, nor was it the one he desired.

"You never owe me. Not ever." Sam declared, his tone adamant, even as it quivered with emotion.

Dean swallowed his own mounting feelings as they clogged his throat. He didn't have time for sentiment, he had a stubborn-shaggy-head to infiltrate.

"But the same rule doesn't apply to you, apparently. You want to tell me why that is?"

Sam turned away, curling himself further into the door, doing the best he could to hide in plain sight. Unfortunately for Sam, he had never once been able to hide from his big brother, not even when he could go beyond the confines of the Impala.

"Sam." The demand was in the tone, and the younger teen heard it loud and clear.

"You shouldn't have to do so much for me."

"What is so wrong with me doing things for you? When the hell did that become such an issue?" Dean had read the paper, he knew what the real issue was, but he needed to make his way through all of Sam's excuses and faulty reasoning first.

The smaller boy shrugged.

The kid could be as evasive as he wanted, Dean had no intention of letting up.

"So what's the solution here, dude? What do you want me to do?" He inquired, honestly unsure as to what it was Sam wanted from him.

"I don't want you to do anything. That's just it. I want you to stop doing so much." Sam answered, finally turning to look at his older brother.

"So what? You want me to stop looking out for you? Stop taking care of you? Why don't you just tell me to stop fucking breathing, Sam, because it would be a hell of a lot easier." Dean exclaimed harshly, as he pulled sharply into the drugstore parking lot and slammed to a frustrated stop.

Once the Impala was in park, the driver turned toward the passenger, watching as the younger boy closed and opened his mouth, his hazel gaze watery as he struggled to find his words.

Sam's reaction had Dean softening both his expression and his tone.

"That's what you're not getting, Sammy. I can't just turn it off. I can't just stop taking care of you. Stop protecting you and making sure that you have everything you need."

The teen took a deep breath, doing his best to steady his rising emotions, before continuing.

"Looking out for you, that's not just something I do, Sammy. It's _who I am_. I need you to understand that." Dean implored.

Sam nodded, wiping away the two tears that had escaped his moisture-filled eyes.

"It's just not fair." The younger boy sniveled.

"What's not fair?" Dean inquired patiently.

"Everything. You work so hard, and you keep taking double shifts so you're always tired, and I know that your head is hurting you a lot, and it's all 'cause of me." He stuttered out through hiccups and sniffles.

"That's where you've got it wrong, kiddo, it's not because of you, it's _for_ you." Dean explained calmly, a small smile tugging at his lips, as he brushed his knuckle across his little brother's cheek, brushing away more trialing tears.

Sam frowned, clearly not appreciating the older teen's focus on trivial logistics.

"Protecting you from the spirit was something I chose to do. More than that, it was something I _had_ to do. You didn't ask me to, and nobody had a gun to my head. I took the hit for you because that's what I needed to do to keep you safe. And that is what I want, for you to be safe. So anything I have to do to make that happen, I am going to do. Because it is what _I_ want and what I _need_. And no amount of bitching from you is going to change that. I don't protect you because it is what you want, or because someone tells me to. I protect you because I need you to be safe; I need that more than I need anything else on this fucking planet. Do you get that?"

Sam sniffled, biting down on his lip as he nodded, but the kid still didn't seem convince. Dean sighed, mentally searching for a new angle to try.

"Why'd you have my meds ready for me this morning?"

The question confused the shaggy-headed boy, and he quirked his head to the side as he replied.

"Because I knew your head would be hurting."

"And you didn't think I would know enough to take them without you reminding me?"

The young face scrunched up.

"No."

"Did you do it because you owed me?"

"No!" Sam burst out defensively.

"Then why?"

"Because – because—

"Because you were looking out for me." Dean stated steadily.

Sam nodded.

"Because we are brothers. And that's what brothers do. They take care of each other. Even when they are both capable enough to look after themselves, they still look out for each other, because they're brothers."

"Not all brothers do that."

"The good ones do." Dean replied.

"But you do more—

"I don't do more for you than you do for me, I just do bigger things. Because I am older and I can do bigger things."

"But—

"For godsake, Sam. You are thirteen-fucking-years-old, if you tried to get a fulltime job they would report you to CPS for not being in school. If you tried to sneak in to a bar to hustle up some cash, there is no way in hell they would let you in with that baby-face of yours." Dean pointed out, playfully pitching the teen's cheek.

"Dean." The younger boy huffed, swatting his brother's hand away.

"You can't do the stuff that I do. Not because you don't want to or you don't care enough, but because you _can't_. But you do other stuff. You make sure I take my meds, you make me breakfast, you do more than your share of chores, you do what you can to keep me safe and healthy – even though I know I don't make it easy for you. You pick up odd jobs when you can—

"When you let me." Sam interjected with a pout.

"Yeah, or when you sneak around behind my back and do it anyways." Dean replied with a wink.

Sam smirked.

"The only thing I need you to do that you don't do already, is eat your food." The older Winchester declared honestly.

"I will." Sam nodded.

Dean was bout to say that he knew as much, when Sam continued.

"On one condition."

The freckled teen raised an eyebrow, it was just like his little brother to bargain, and he was patiently awaiting the terms.

"No more double shifts."

Dean frowned at the request. He worked as much as he could because he was never sure when they would be leaving and when he would be able to get another job. He liked to have money saved away for emergencies, because as a Winchester, you could never have a large enough contingency fund.

"Sam—

"I'm serious. You can make enough with just the one shift a day for us to live off of and still save some, you don't need to work two. Twelve hours is too much, especially with all the other stuff you have to do. You're so exhausted all the time, it's not good for you. So no more doubles. I mean it, Dean." Sam argued.

Dean thought it over, not able to argue with his little brother's logic, but also not loving the idea of giving up more income just so he could get some rest. However, if it meant that Sam would eat properly, and maybe the kid wouldn't have to spend so much time on his own in that seedy motel, then he would accept his little brother's terms.

"Fine. Damn, kid, you should be a lawyer." He joked, always impressed by the thirteen-year-olds ability to form a well-structured argument.

Sam grinned, Dean wasn't sure if it was because he agreed to the compromise, or the compliment directed at the teen's intelligent mind.

"And if you ever feel like you want to do something for me, Baby could use a bath." Dean quipped, petting the steering wheel.

"I am not going to wash your _car_ , Dean." Sam moaned with a roll of his eyes.

Dean chuckled.

"Seriously though, Sam, you do plenty. Okay? More than enough. You don't, and never will, owe me anything." Dean stated, holding Sam's gaze, being sure the younger boy could see that he meant what he said.

Sam's expression grew serious again, as he took in his brother's words.

"Are we good?" The older teen asked after a moment.

"Yeah, yeah we're good." Sam said, even as he sat, chewing on his bottom lip.

Dean knew the kid would spend the next few hours or maybe even days mulling over what his big brother had said. That was just how Sam operated, that was also why he was the best researcher around. He thought through everything, looking at it from every angle, and considering all aspects of the information.

Dean turned off the Impala, and reached for the door-handle, but halted as something else that needed to be said nagged at his brain.

"Sam. " He called, snagging his brother's coat before the kid opened his own door.

The teen, left his fingers on the handle, but turned back to his brother, a question in his drying hazel eyes.

"You're enough. You know that, right? You do enough. You're a good hunter, getting better every day. You are smarter and more capable than any other kid your age or mine. You already fend for yourself, way more than I like. You're a good person, Sammy. And a great brother." Dean insisted, needing the kid to understand. He couldn't force Sam to agree with him – although he very much wished that was an option– but he could make certain that his kid understood exactly how his big brother felt.

Sam's lip trembled, until he bit down on it to keep it still, his wide puppy-dog-eyes filling with moisture again as they stared at the older teen.

Dean's heart swelled as he looked at his little brother. The kid was staring up at him as though Dean had just offered him the world, as though the taller boy had just fixed something that was broken inside of Sam. He was looking at Dean like he was some sort of hero, as though he had just given Sam everything he had ever needed.

The older teen felt his own eyes fill, as emotions clogged his throat, if he had any idea earlier that Sam had needed to hear those words, he would have said them a dozen times over already. Dean sometimes forget that his little brother was different than him and John in that way; where they showed their feeling through actions, Sam often used words. Right then and there the eldest Winchester son vowed to remember to use the language that spoke most clearly to his little brother. He would always show Sam how much he loved him through his actions, that was what came most natural to Dean, but he needed to make a greater effort to use his words, to say the things he felt, the things Sam needed to hear.

It was his fault that Sam had lost sight of his own worth, Dean had allowed that to happen by assuming Sam knew how to interpret his each and every action.

Dean would not be making that same mistake again.

"Well, I learned from the best."

It took a moment for the older teen to realize that Sam was replying to Dean's last remark.

"Damn right you did." He laughed, mussing up his brother's shaggy hair; and reveling at the appearance of two dimples on Sam's young face as the kid laughed along, tears drying on his cheeks.

The two brothers simply smiled at each other, relishing in the moment and how right it felt.

The sky could be falling.

The ground could be shaking.

The world could be fucked to hell.

But as long as Dean had Sam, and Sam had Dean, the brothers would be alright.

Because their brotherhood was what got them through.

And it could withstand anything.

Poverty.

Illness.

Danger.

Chaos.

Tragedy.

Strife.

_Anything_.

**The End**

* * *

Note: I hope you enjoyed it! Please comment and/or review, I would really appreciate it! Reviews always motivate me to get more writing done. ;)

Thanks for reading- Sam


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